JERRY (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
CHEN CHEN (caller): You are the ice cream sandwich connoisseur of your generation.
JERRY: Glad to have a skill I can fall back on.
Happy Midsummer and happy Pride Month!
Read the rest of “Summer” by Chen Chen here.
KIM (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
SJOHNNA MCCRAY: Rage is the language of men.
KIM: Let me see if I can find you a translator.
LUTHER (anger translator): Luther here. What the @#!? is your problem?
In celebration of both Father’s Day and Juneteenth this Sunday. Click here to read “Portrait of My Father as a Young Black Man” by Sjohnna McCray
Of course I’m concerned about authoritarianism.
I don’t want to get eaten!
We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to report on current events.
THE CHICAGO PICASSO (caller): We do not hug the Mona Lisa.
PATIENCE (counselor): Did you hear? One person tried to give her cake.
THE CHICAGO PICASSO: I’m glad people still care about starving art.
See past installments of the Chicago Picasso’s call here and here.
How many poets? Let me count them, please.
One brings a ladder to attain the height
So they can reach the socket for the light.
Another climbs the ladder’s rungs with ease,
Forgetting something vital. When he sees,
He asks another, “Kind sir, if you might
Hand me the light bulb over on your right?”
So: Poets changing light bulbs work in threes.
ROBERT: Your poem ought to have more lines than these.
ELIZABETH: This is no sonnet; I’m not Portuguese.
We real bright. We
Changed light. With
Great speed. Now
Let’s read.
What does the poet change the light into?
I have changed
the bulbs
that were in
the streetlamp
and which
were previously
lighting
the sidewalks.
Forgive me.
I like it
so dark
and so calm.
Landlord, landlord,
this light bulb needs replacement.
The wiring isn’t safe, and the
fuse box is in the basement.
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun.
Could you please change this light bulb for me, hon?